


The King In His Castle

by Crystalwren



Series: All the King's Men [1]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-28
Updated: 2008-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalwren/pseuds/Crystalwren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the two who swore they loved him most began to love each other, where would that leave him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King In His Castle

The first night he heard the music he thought that it was part of the festivities, the thin thread of elegant piano weaving through the heavier, crasser drums of the parade. He stood in the corridor outside his office, head tilted to hear it better. For a moment he considered tracking it down, finding the makers, but the king wasn’t supposed to take part in this festival and besides, he was tired. In the end he went to the baths, and then to bed.

He did the same on the second night, and the third, but on the fourth night the drums were muffled and the piano was much clearer, and Yuri realised that the piano wasn’t from the festivities but something much closer. Certain objects and technologies had crossed between the worlds and a handful of musical instruments were amongst them. Piano music was something that his mother played from time to time, but never this, or sweetly. With curiosity nagging, Yuri took a lamp and set out to satisfy it.

There was a deserted feel to the corridors, despite the soldiers posted at regular intervals, and there was a faint smell of neglect in the air. Yuri raised his lamp higher, dust motes dancing in the light. He followed his ears. Down the corridor, up a set of stairs. Down another corridor to a series of parlours that were hardly ever used. The dust was thicker here, and he sneezed. This corridor wasn’t lit at all and there weren’t any guards. From where he was, he could see light streaming out through a half opened door. The music came from there.

Inside, the parlour was well-lit, candles and lamps blazing. Günter was there, his long fingers dancing nimbly over the keyboard, his eyes closed, sweetly serene. Conrad as well; he was sprawled on a lounge, leg tossed over an arm rest, his hair and jacket dishevelled. Yuri was suddenly struck by the thought that he was intruding on something deeply personal and he backed off, but Conrad raised his head, Conrad had seen him and Conrad smiled and gestured for him to come forward. So Yuri doused his lamp, came hesitantly forward and Conrad’s arm shot out and wrapped around him, pulling him forward onto the lounge. A hard, wet kiss was pressed to the side of Yuri’s neck and he was held close. He smelled alcohol and realised that Conrad had been drinking. He didn’t try to move away.

They sat quietly together for a long time. Günter played beautifully; he was just as good as the CDs Jennifer had played when Yuri was little, when she’d thought he was napping. There had been tears on her face when he’d gotten up early one day and looked for her, and when he’d asked her, ‘Why are you crying, Mama?’ she had smiled, wiped her eyes and wouldn’t reply. So when he looked sideways at Conrad’s face he expected to see tears but there were none, because Conrad was asleep.

The music stopped. Günter closed the lid over the keyboard and stood, his cloak rustling. Without the piano Yuri could hear the festival drums again, but only faintly. “I’m sorry to intrude,” he began softly, but Günter smiled, shook his head.

“We are always glad to see you,” he said softly. He walked over to the lounge and looked at Conrad’s face. “Here,” he said, and gently moved the body of his former student so Yuri could squirm free. Conrad didn’t wake up. “Perhaps it’s time for Your Majesty to retire?” and Yuri knew that it was close to a rebuke as he would get. He nodded and stood.

“Goodnight, Günter.”

“Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

At the door he hesitated, looked back, watched as Günter knelt and pulled Conrad forward over his shoulder. The older man stood, bearing the burden easily, and Yuri knew that he’d carry Conrad to bed safely. He nodded in farewell and went to his own bed, feeling a strange sense of loss that he couldn’t explain.

**

Breakfast was cold dishes left on a sideboard so that people could serve themselves. Conrad didn’t appear, and Günter seemed distracted as he rattled off Yuri’s itinerary for the day. Yuri didn’t press; he collected a plate and took it with him into the library, Günter accompanying him for morning tutorial. One good thing about being a full time king nowadays was that he’d been in the Demon Kingdom for long enough that he no longer needed hours and hours of being taught things that others took for granted, but nevertheless, there were still things remaining that he didn’t know.

“This festival is known as the Week of the Dead,” said Günter, after clearing his throat and finding the appropriate page in his book. “It happens every five years. The lives of the newly dead are celebrated with parades and parties, and the old dead are remembered with prayers to wish them luck and joy in their new life. Old battles are discussed, fallen mates honoured. Women who have lost their children early write letters and burn them so that the children may receive them...”

Yuri wiped crumbs from his mouth and went to stand at the window, looking down into the gardens.

“Traditionally, all but a skeleton staff are given leave for the week. Also by tradition, the monarch and the nobles are supposed to remain in their houses and not be seen by the common people for the duration of the festival...”

The plants were looking distinctly overgrown, the lawns were ragged. There was algae slicking across the fountain basin.

“Does Your Majesty have any questions?”

He leant his burning forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. In his mind was the image of Günter’s fine boned hands on the piano’s keyboard and of Conrad watching him play. Out loud he said, “No, none at all,” which was a lie because he really wanted to ask about what he’d seen the night before, but knew that he never would.

“Very good, Your Majesty.”

Conrad appeared by lunchtime, with bloodshot eyes and his familiar kind smile, and they stood next to each other as they served themselves from the sideboard. Günter had disappeared; Yuri knew that he often rode into the countryside outside the city each day and Yuri wondered if he was finding it difficult not being able to.

“Where’s Günter gone to?”

“He’s helping to exercise the horses in the corrals,” replied Conrad. “We’re shy on stable hands at the moment.”

“Think I should go help?”

“Best to leave him to it,” and it was a measure of Yuri’s growing maturity that he didn’t decide to sneak off to the corrals anyway.

So instead, after lunch Conrad drilled Yuri on the finer points of stance in swordsmanship and when he corrected Yuri’s grip on the hilt he had to slide his arms about the young king’s waist. Yuri suddenly remembered Conrad’s hot mouth on his neck and he shuddered and stood a little straighter.

Neither Conrad nor Günter was there at dinner, that wretched sideboard again, but at least some of the food was warm this time. He kept an ear on Anissina’s idle chatter, vigilant for key words like ‘experiment’ and ‘test subject’ but she seemed unusually subdued, as if she didn’t feel like performing without her usual admiring audience of servant women. He ate distractedly, scribbling notes on the margins of a parchment that Gwendal had asked him to read and thought about getting to bed early for once but when he finished his food and went to his office to finish one last thing he heard the music again, the piano sliding its way through the festival drumbeats and he felt like it was beckoning him somehow. He lit a lamp and followed the music through corridors that seemed like they had grown infinitely dustier and abandoned over the space of a single day.

When he came to the door Yuri hesitated at the threshold, again feeling like an intruder, but at the same time knowing full well that there was nothing he could do that either of them would not forgive. He was king in this castle, so once again he doused his lamp, stepped forward and joined Conrad on the lounge. Conrad had been drinking again. Although he’d reached his full height years ago, Conrad had considerable size over him and always would, and he was gently but firmly pushed down against the armrest so that Conrad could lay half on top of him. It occurred to Yuri that the texture of Conrad’s hair was soft and pleasant when the older man tucked his head under Yuri’s chin.

Günter had taken off his cloak and his usual white surcoat had been replaced by one in a charcoal grey and he didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge Yuri when he came in and didn’t pout jealously or complain when Conrad wrapped himself around their king. He looked sharper, harder in the dark colours, and Yuri was reminded that the retired solider could be very dangerous when he needed to. Instead of upsetting him- the king hated to be reminded that many of the ones he cared about had once done terrible things- this comforted him, made him feel protected and secure.

Yuri’s leg was going numb, likewise his arm. He went to sleep anyway, and woke, briefly, when strong hands slid under his body and lifted him. Smiling, he let those strong hands carry him to bed.

**

“The festival ends tomorrow.” Yuri’s head shot up. “The festival ends tomorrow,” repeated Anissina in relieved tones as she prodded a rubbery egg with her knife. “It’ll be good to have a proper breakfast again.” It was on the tip of Yuri’s tongue to ask why, if it bothered her so much, she didn’t give cooking a go herself but the image of a ‘Master-Egg-Beating-Bacon-Frying-Breakfast-Maker’ machine taking over the kitchen welled up in his mind and he shuddered in dread. Grunting instead, he applied himself to milk and muesli, thinking that it would be nice to see the gardens in proper order as well.

Then he realised that his little gatherings with Conrad and Günter would very likely come to a halt and he felt such a sudden, wrenching sense of loss that he forgot to breathe.

“Your Majesty?” said Anissina politely, and he looked up to see something very like compassion in her eyes. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine.”

“You know, you should probably try talking to them.”

Yuri pressed his lips, looked away. It sometimes annoyed him how fast gossip got around the place, even without the usual small army of servants to help pass it along. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Lady Anissina,” he said.

“Suit yourself.”

Both Conrad and Günter made themselves scarce that day. Fencing lessons were instead given by Gwendal, who decided that it was time that Yuri learned to handle different type of blade to the usual straight sword that Demon Tribe nobles carried: a short, curved sabre, generally used for swift attacks conducted on horseback and Gwendal had him hack at straw practice dummies from atop a wooden horse. The wooden horse was set on springs that moved in ways that were impossible to predict. Certain that he’d looked perfectly ridiculous throughout the entire ordeal, sore and tired from exercise he was unused to, Yuri finally called a halt before Gwendal was ready. What followed was a silent battle of wills as they tried to stare each other down until the older man finally backed off, bowing silently in respect. Yuri stormed off towards the baths, hot and sweaty and itching from the bits of straw that had drifted into the air to land on his skin.

He saw them before they saw him; they were walking together, their heads bent together, Günter’s hair falling across his face. So close that their shoulders were touching. Yuri once again felt the sensation of intruding but out of sorts as he was, this made him angry instead of nervous. He was king, and this was his castle and by definition he intruded nowhere because castle and fief belonged only to him. Stalking forward, his feet struck the stones with rather more force than was necessary. They looked up, Günter bowing gracefully and both of them smiling. Angry for reasons he couldn’t explain, Yuri nodded once curtly and didn’t stop.

He remained angry for the rest of the day. Thankfully, the both of them seemed to catch his mood and stayed away, leaving him to Gwendal. Strangely, there was a slight air of respect about the man, as if by winning their little battle Yuri had also won his approval as well. This only served to make Yuri angrier, because it seemed to him that if he hadn’t won Gwendal’s approval by now he couldn’t see how a silly brawl over a pointy metal stick and spring-loaded wooden horse would make a difference. So with uncharacteristic short temper he snapped and growled and signed where he was asked with enough force to damage perfectly good quills. With characteristic good sense Gwendal gathered his papers and disappeared, leaving Yuri to watch the night fall over the garden from his window. The drums started again in the dusk and he shuddered.

The Week of the Dead. Conrad was reminded, likely, of comrades fallen in battle, of Susanna Julia, whom he’d loved and he drank to dull the pain. Günter played the piano, but whether he played to comfort his companion or whether he mourned some old love was anyone’s guess and Yuri knew that he’d never tell. And with this last day of the festival Conrad would no longer drink and Günter would no longer play and Yuri would not be embraced by one and would not be able to watch the other. He grieved for that loss. After only two nights with them, he grieved.

On this last night he lit his lamp and made his way up the dusty silent stairs, into the dusty silent corridor to the dusty parlour where Günter made music with his fingertips. Gnawing his bottom lip as he stood in the doorway, Yuri stared at them both.

Günter was...well, he was beautiful, of course, and graceful and talented and intelligent. Conrad was handsome and graceful and talented and intelligent because he took after his teacher. They were attractive in different ways; Günter seemed positively unearthly at times, like at this very instant, as if he were a fantastic illustration in a book of fairytales. Conrad was more approachable, the everyday man in a movie, the one who usually gets the girl at the end.

Yuri doused his lamp, and stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Conrad, strangely, did not smell like alcohol but he still put his arms around Yuri when he sat down next to him.

It was hard to get comfortable.

Without the alcohol, Yuri knew that Conrad was fully aware and in control of his actions and he wanted, very much, for the man he called Godfather to kiss him on the neck the way he had on their first night together but doubted that Conrad would ever do it sober.

The music came to an abrupt halt. Günter shut the keyboard with an empathic gesture. The charcoal grey of his surcoat gave him an unaccustomed appearance of mourning, and as he stood, unsteadily, Yuri realised that this time Günter been the one doing the drinking. He stumbled as he tried to move towards them and Conrad was up and beside him like a shot. Conrad put his hands on the older man’s shoulders and brought their foreheads together with a sigh. Beautiful violet eyes closed and some unknowable grief curled Günter’s mouth.

They left the parlour, Conrad supporting Günter, Yuri beside them, walking first on one side and then on the other so that he could touch them both. Walking until they reached a stretch of corridor that seemed better cared for, and Conrad shoved Günter up against a wall and kissed him soundly while Yuri opened the door he knew led to Günter’s private rooms.

Inside he moved around, hunting lamps and candles that he lit from the glowing coals in the hearth. A scuff announced the entry of Günter and Conrad, Günter putting up some resistance to his former student but it was a resistance that was easily ignored. Yuri shut the door behind them, locking it securely. There was a lovely big four poster bed in one corner, not nearly as big as Yuri’s but still very respectable and Conrad pushed Günter down onto it, his hands moving very quickly to strip away both their clothes.

At this point Yuri knew that he still had the option of leaving, of walking away. It was obvious by Günter’s feeble protests that he was not accustomed to Conrad’s advances and that this was their first time together. It would be possible for them all to meet over breakfast tomorrow and pretend that none of this had ever happened, and Yuri could see the future in his mind’s eye, of decades watching the two together and always feeling apart from them. Yuri was lonely. If the two that swore cared for him most began to love each other, then where would he be after that?

It was selfish, he knew that, but he stayed anyway, watched them as they twined together on the bed, waited until they were mostly naked and Günter was breathless and panicking. Conrad bit Günter’s shoulders mercilessly, and had come prepared as well, and when he pushed an oil-slick finger inside Günter’s body the older man cried out and reached for Yuri and he felt a great rush of tenderness for his flamboyant teacher. Yuri pulled off his boots and went to him. Günter pulled him down and kissed him, hard, and Yuri felt the older man jolt, saw Conrad’s broad rough hands on his hips and then Günter whined, low in his throat. Desperate kisses followed, Günter’s body rocking against Yuri’s in time with Conrad’s thrusts. Long, sweet-smelling hair against Yuri’s face and it was like being with a woman, Günter’s soft whimpers and Conrad’s rough grunts and Günter’s skilful hands everywhere on Yuri’s body.

It was nice, Yuri decided, as he stroked Günter’s hair. Nice being there with them, nice feeling those hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses over his collarbones and chest, Günter’s nimble fingers dancing everywhere like Yuri was the keyboard of a piano. The young king was very conscious suddenly that both Günter and Conrad were naked and his own garments were still on, albeit unfastened. Conrad’s grunts became louder, closer together, and Günter closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. Watching his face, Yuri supposed that it rather hurt and the both of them were relieved when Conrad finally shuddered and collapsed against Günter, who very gently laid back and put Conrad to rest on the mattress. A strange expression crossed Günter’s face as Conrad left his body. He settled in between his king and his former student, groping for Yuri’s hand and pressing a hard kiss to the palm.

Yuri wanted to get undressed but he was smart enough to lie silently, to wait until the other two were ready. In the end it was Conrad who made the decision, Conrad who stretched like a smug cat and sat up, reaching across Günter to kiss Yuri on the mouth. Günter sat up, forcing them to break the kiss until he moved away to give them more room. From the corner of his eye Yuri saw him watching them eagerly; his reluctance, apparently, didn’t extend to that and Yuri put even more passion into working his mouth and his tongue and finally Günter leant forward to press a kiss of his own against Yuri’s neck.

That was nice; plenty of suction, just the right amount of bite. Yuri let his head tilt back for easy access. He was almost annoyed when Conrad interrupted, weaving his hand through Günter’s hair, pulling him back. It was their attention Conrad was after; as they watched he stretched flat over across the bed and propped up his hips with a pillow, spreading his legs. He reached out, grabbed Günter’s hair again and pulled the older man down on top of him none-too-gently. “You’re not getting away from me that easily,” he hissed, and Yuri started, realising that it was the first time any of them had spoken since they’d entered the room. Günter didn’t seem to have much of a choice; Conrad took his teacher’s hand, slicked it with oil and brought it between his legs, grinning when those long fingers entered his body. Slowly, Günter began to move his hand of his own accord and Conrad moaned and arched his back.

“Yes...oh, yes, like that.”

Conrad’s eyes meet Günter’s, and the older man took his fingers out of Conrad’s body. Deliberately, he positioned himself between Conrad’s legs.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life.”

Yuri watched. He watched as Günter entered Conrad, Günter’s cock swollen and eager, biting his lip in a way that would have been adorable if it hadn’t been so sexy. Yuri was almost relieved when Conrad reached for his hand because it had felt as if the two had forgotten him, as though he weren’t even there. Günter lasted for a long time and he was quiet about it as well. A great sigh was the only sound he made as he came. It was nothing short of astonishing, really, given that the problem usually lay with getting him to shut up.

“Günter,” said Yuri, “Günter.”

Günter was still, propped up over Conrad, his eyes closed. At the sound of Yuri’s voice he opened his eyes, turned to gaze at his king and then turned away again. Silver hair hid his face as he withdrew from Conrad’s body.

“Günter...I want to...I haven’t... with a man...help me.”

“It’s all right. I’ll help you.” Those clever hands on his body again; they slid under his jacket and whisked away, and then the trousers as well, and Yuri grinned as they lingered across his backside in a sly grope. “He’s ready for you,” and Günter scooted aside so that Yuri could kneel between Conrad’s legs. A hand on the small of his back, pushing him forward, another wrapped around his penis, guiding it.

Hot. Hot, tight and rough. Conrad moaned and Yuri froze, terrified that he was hurting him. “Conrad?”

“Why did you stop?” Conrad sounded dazed.

“Here,” said Günter. Warm breath in Yuri’s ear and the older man wrapped his arms around his king. “Move like this.” Pressure on his hip, adjusting the angle. Conrad sighed and Yuri began to rock, Günter’s whispered endearments and little kisses in his ear.

He didn’t last long.

Günter’s arms loosened, and disappeared. He lay down beside Conrad and stared up at the canopy. He looked dazed.

Yuri pulled out, sleepy and satisfied. He leaned forward embraced Conrad for a long time. They kissed. “Think you’ll regret this tomorrow?” Conrad murmured.

“Never,” said Yuri. “Will you?”

Conrad grinned. His arms tightened around his young king, and he looked positively smug. “Never.” Sleep was fast approaching. Yuri settled down on the mattress, between the two that loved him most, reaching for Günter‘s hand.

The last thing he saw was Conrad’s smile as he propped himself up on his elbow to watch them, Yuri and Günter both.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Shay and Nanashi-Reikon for their beta reading. Any remaining errors, and the badly written sex are entirely my own fault. Cross posted to LiveJournal and Destiny’s Gateway Romance Archives.
> 
> Also, not long after writing this I was told that Gunter in the original novels is tone deaf, and strictly speaking wouldn't be playing any instrument that wasn't attached to another man. Or woman. You can never tell in anime. Damn amoral Japanese.


End file.
